


Of Deals and Devils Part 2

by MomentsAway



Series: Of Deals and Devils [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Abuse to Orihime, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, creepy Aizen/Gin subtext, dark!fic, kinda sorta 'fuck or die', probably some OOC behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 23:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MomentsAway/pseuds/MomentsAway
Summary: “So,” Aizen started conversationally, “I am willing to make a deal with you, Kurosaki.” He ignored Ichigo’s scoff and continued. “I am less than pleased with the situation you and Grimmjow have gotten yourselves into. Further proof that you are not as smart as you like to think you are. But seeing how you two react to each other’s presence has given me an idea. I want you and Grimmjow to continue your… relationship.”Ichigo blinked in confusion. “You...what?” There was definitely not a relationship.“Not the sparring, obviously,” he shook his head in disapproval. “But the sex.”





	Of Deals and Devils Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just start by saying: I have been out of the Bleach fandom for a long time but I haven't forgotten how strongly people feel about their ships. That being said: I do not hate Orihime so please don't come burn my house down. While I don't ship IchiOri, this fic by no means portrays my feelings for her. 
> 
> I would say this takes place somewhere between Ichigo's first visit to Hueco Mundo, but before the Winter War. Ugh, it's been so long I can't really remember the whole timeline and since I only watched the anime, assume this happened during one of the MANY filler arcs :-P
> 
> This fic started in a different place (March 2019), and was supposed to be more porny, but by the time I got around to finishing it, it had taken quite a darker, less porny turn. 
> 
> It's been beta'd by Beefnubbins69 and OzoDienDeElo but my hands were the last to touch it.

After he and Grimmjow were caught sparring, Ichigo fought against Ichimaru’s vice-like hold on him. But he was no match for the former captain and he’d passed out.

“What the…?” He rasped as he stood. He was naked except for his fundoshi. His eyes were wild as he scanned the stark, white room, finally resting on the pile of his black clothes folded neatly on the floor. Zangestu was still wrapped and leaning against the wall. He did not miss the message they were sending by leaving him his sword; he posed no threat to them at all.

Ichigo took a few steps, slightly disoriented by the absolute whiteness of the room. He put his hand against the wall to keep his bearings and tried to keep his breathing calm.

“Kurosaki-kun! How nice to see you up and about.” Ichimaru’s reedy voice shattered the silence of the room and made Ichigo wince.

He turned to see the other man leaning against a doorframe, a sick smile twisting his thin lips. 

“Aizen-sama will be joining us soon. I’d say you should get dressed, but this is how he wants you.” Ichimaru’s eyes swept over his body appreciatively and Ichigo squirmed as he tried in vain to cover himself.

There was a steady undercurrent of reiatsu surrounding him, getting stronger whenever he moved closer to Zangetsu. He frowned and tried to silence the Hollow inside him as it screamed for release. He needed to concentrate, though for once, he was actually considering letting it loose if it meant he could escape.

“Let me go,” he wheezed, his voice raw. He fought against the rising pressure of reiatsu and worked his way towards his clothes. He kept his hands on the wall to steady himself and ignored Ichimaru’s soft chuckling.

“Now, Kurosaki-kun, letting you go would ruin Aizen-sama’s fun. Why would you want to do that?”

The room began to spin and the reiatsu grew stronger, bringing him to his knees just out of reach of Zangetsu. His head pounded and his stomach turned, bile burning the back of his throat. He couldn’t find his strength and the Hollow was quiet now. Ichigo couldn’t even feel him inside his head. It was like all his power was gone. 

Ichimaru was still speaking but Ichigo couldn’t hear him anymore, all he could hear was the constant buzzing of reiatsu. He struggled to lift his head when he caught movement in his peripheral vision.

Aizen walked in, his steps measured and confident. His smile was serene as he took in Ichigo’s crumpled form. He stopped just before him and dropped something to the floor.

Ichigo tried to focus on the small objects, but he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open.

“Gin, ease up. He is our guest, after all.”

Air suddenly rushed into Ichigo’s lungs and his vision cleared. The room stopped spinning, and while he was still not able to feel any of his own spiritual power, he could finally focus on his surroundings.

He glanced down and sucked in a breath.

Inoue’s blue hairpins lay in front of him, drops of red blood clinging to the delicate petals. The rage that swelled came with the welcome growl of the Hollow and Ichigo stood.

He dove for Zangetsu and held it in front of him, the wrappings falling loose and the point mere inches away from Aizen’s chest. He closed his eyes and tried to reach within himself to call forth his Bankai

Nothing happened.

“You would really try to kill me after I show you this?” Aizen gestures to the hairpins. “You may be pretty, Kurosaki, but you are not smart.”

Ichigo lifted his arms, raising Zangetsu high and preparing to bring it down to slice across Aizen’s chest, but he faltered as his eyes landed on the hairpins. The Hollow howled inside him and his arms shuddered before he dropped the sword.

Aizen smiled and kicked it away. He settled onto a low, white couch that Ichigo hadn’t noticed before. He crossed his long legs and rested his chin in his hand.

Ichimaru moved to stand behind the couch and smirked at Ichigo.

“So,” Aizen started conversationally, “I am willing to make a deal with you, Kurosaki.” He ignored Ichigo’s scoff and continued. “I am less than pleased with the situation you and Grimmjow have gotten yourselves into. Further proof that you are not as smart as you like to think you are. But  seeing how you two react to each other’s presence has given me an idea . ”

Aizen paused as he watched a blush spread across Ichigo’s cheeks. The boy would not meet his eyes, all his outraged defiance was gone, replaced by embarrassment and a hint of fear. 

Ichigo shifted uncomfortably under the knowing stare the two men give him. He knew what Aizen was talking about. He was aware of how he reacted to Grimmjow, how his blood heated and his eyes wandered. He knows how easy it is for them to move from sparring to...something else. It was never planned. But it  _ always _ happened. They’d never talk about it when they were done since Grimmjow usually opened a garganta and left before they’d even caught their breath.

Aizen went on, his pleasant smile still in place as if they were old friends having tea, “I want you and Grimmjow to continue your… relationship.”

Ichigo blinked in confusion. “You...what?” There was definitely not a  _ relationship _ .

“Not the sparring, obviously,” he shook his head in disapproval. “But the sex.”

The silence in the room was almost as stifling as Ichimaru’s reiatsu had been. Ichigo opened and closed his mouth, words dying on his tongue before he could get them out. He looked back and forth between Aizen’s serene smile and Ichimaru’s unnerving leer.

“If you do not acquiesce, I will destroy everyone you care about, starting with Orihime Inoue.”

Ichigo scoffed. “You’re bluffing. You need her to use the Hogyoku.” He gave Aizen a triumphant grin.

“I don’t need  _ her _ . I only needed her power, and now that the Hogyoku is fully awakened, I can take the power from her, whether or not she gives it willingly.”

Ichigo’s shoulders slouched, defeated. His mind started racing with the implications of this news. Aizen could start trying to open the lock to the Soul King  _ now _ . He could invade Soul Society and wage full out war on them. He could destroy Karakura.

He could kill Inoue.

“Souske, I don’t think he knows how to properly thank you for your mercy,” Ichimaru said. He laid his bony hand on Aizen’s shoulder and leaned forward. His thin lips were close to Aizen’s ear and Ichigo thought he saw a pink tongue slip out and lick Aizen’s neck.

“I think he needs to think about his options.” Aizen stood and motioned Ichimaru towards the door. He glanced around the room before his eyes settled on Ichigo. “Take your time, Kurosaki. This ends one of two ways, and the choice is yours.” He shut the door quietly and it blended in seamlessly with the wall as if it was never there.

**.oOo.**

He wasn’t sure how much time passed. He was alone, surrounded by endless, unbroken white. He kept waiting for… something to happen, but nothing did. 

Occasionally a low-level Arrancar would bring him food. In the beginning, he’d swing his sword at it and rush the door when it opened, but Aizen had some kind of protection around the creature. His sword would bounce back ineffectively and he would run into an invisible barrier when he got to the doorway. The Arrancar would ignore him and leave as soon as it left the tray of food inside his door. He’d pick at it, then return to lying on the floor and staring at the white.

Screaming his rage and demanding to be released had done nothing other than making his throat raw. Pounding on the space where he thought the door was left his hands bruised. Pacing did nothing to ease his anxiety, and eventually, he stopped moving altogether, only his chest rising and falling proved he was alive.

He’d put his clothes back on to spite Aizen, but his sword rested untouched against the arm of the couch. He wouldn’t go near the couch. He had some childish notion that Aizen had left cooties on it.

His mind wandered. He used to think about who would be coming to rescue him. Surely people noticed he was gone. He’d strain his ears to hear Sado’s roar or the lovely slicing sound Rukia’s blade made. He’d never wanted to hear Ishida’s snarky voice so much in his life. 

But nobody ever came. He tried not to think about what that meant because the hurt of rejection was too much for him on top of everything else.

Then he’d start planning his escape, but that line of thought was cut short by the image of Inoue’s dead body crumpled at his feet.

Aizen had somehow blocked him from being able to enter his inner world, and while he could feel the Hollow’s rage simmering below the surface, it was muted and far away. 

Eventually, he couldn’t even feel that anymore.

His eyes were slipping closed when his door banged open. He didn’t stir, assuming it was an Arrancar bringing him food.

“What the fuck, Kurosaki?” The voice was like knives in his ears after so long with only silence.

Ichigo winced and stood up, squinting at the blue-haired menace. “Grimmjow...what…?”

“The longer you wait, the more she suffers, you idiot.” He glared expectantly at Ichigo. His hands were in his pockets and he was scowling.

“Wait for what?”

Grimmjow snarled. “Are you stupid? The deal! Make the fucking deal and he’ll leave her alone!”

It all came rushing back to him in flashes of red anger. Inoue; him being trapped in Hueco Mundo; the deal with Aizen. It was too much too fast and he stumbled, reaching out a hand to steady himself.

Grimmjow looked at the hand on his arm as if it offended him, but he made no move to dislodge it. His eyes narrowed as he watched Ichigo struggle to rise above whatever haze he’d been in. 

Ichigo finally met his eyes. “Are you here to help me?” His voice sounded small and weak and it made Grimmjow cringe in distaste.

“No. I’m here to tell you that your time is up. Aizen wants a decision.”

Finally, Ichigo seemed to get ahold of himself. He snatched his hand away from Grimmjow and glared at him. “Aizen wants me to whore myself for his entertainment, or he’ll kill Inoue. What the fuck kind of options are those?” He tilted his head at Grimmjow. “And you’re okay with this?”

Grimmjow pressed his lips into thin lines and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Of course you are.” Ichigo pushed past him, reaching for his sword. “Well, he’s got another thing coming if he thinks I’m going down without a fight.”

A flash of bright light caused both men to close their eyes. When they opened them, there was a large semi-translucent screen blocking the door Grimmjow had left open. Purple tentacles framed the screen, pulsing and writhing grotesquely. Static filled the room with a soft buzzing before the screen flickered and they found themselves looking at Aizen’s throne room.

“Szayelaporro. Fuckin’ freak,” Grimmjow muttered as he put his hand through the screen. It wavered where his hand passed through and stilled when he removed his hand. He sighed with boredom and sat on the neglected couch.

Ichigo remained standing, his eyes glued to the screen. He sucked in a breath when he caught sight of movement.

Grimmjow leaned forward, elbows on his knees and peered closer as the figures made their way to the foot of the empty throne.

As they entered, the image zoomed in and the figures became clear. Aizen was leading the way with Ulquiorra close behind. Two masked Arrancar carried a limp body between them. Ichimaru brought up the rear, strolling in with unhurried steps. 

Aizen took his seat, Ulquiorra standing sentry stiffly to his left. Ichimaru lowered himself to the stairs at Aizen’s feet and leaned back on an elbow. His head tipped back and Aizen glanced down to smile indulgently at him.

The Arrancar dropped the body they were carrying on the floor a few feet away from the throne. It lay motionless in a white heap, but the spill of ginger hair was distinctly recognizable.

Ichigo’s grip tightened on his sword and he made a move toward the door, but the soft whimper that cut through the silence stopped him.

“Kurosaki, you’ve had enough time to decide. So,” Aizen spread his hands in a beseeching manner. “Do we have a deal, or not?”

Grimmjow cleared his throat and looked expectantly at Ichigo. He leaned back against the couch, letting his long legs fall further open. His arms were stretched across the back of the couch and Ichigo refused to acknowledge how much skin was showing beneath Grimmjow’s cropped jacket. Now was not the time to prove Aizen right about their relationship.

He heard another soft whimper and looked back at the screen. Inoue had been lifted up and was hanging between the two Arrancar. Her eyes were open, but they stared vacantly. The dark bruise blooming on her jaw had Ichigo seeing red.

“What the fuck have you done?” His voice was low with rage.

Aizen seemed to look directly at him through the screen. “Do we have a deal or not, Kurosaki?”

The Arrancar shook Inoue slightly and she gasped. Her eyes were still unfocused, but tears leaked from them, trickling slowly down her face.

Ichigo shifted Zangetsu to his other hand and frowned. He watched Inoue hang limply between the Arrancar. He could feel Ichimaru and Aizen staring at him, knowing smiles plastered across both of their faces.

He wouldn’t look at the screen when he spoke. “You’ll leave her alone if I say yes?”

“Of course. I am a man of my word.” Aizen’s voice was saccharine and it made Ichigo’s skin crawl.

“And you won’t attack Karakura. Or Soul Society.”

The resounding silence made Ichigo lift his eyes. Aizen was still smiling, though it was strained. Ichimaru’s thin lips were twisted into a scowl. Even Ulquiorra’s normally stoic face was contorted with a frown.

“I will not harm this woman, or Karakura, or Soul Society as long as you  come when I send for you without hesitation or question.” Aizen paused and glared at the screen. “ However, if you put even one foot out of line, I will slaughter all of them. There will be no second chances or time to explain.” He gestured sharply at the two Arrancar and they carried Inoue off-screen.

Ichigo let out a breath and dropped his sword. He tried to focus on the fact that he’d bought everyone time. He’d saved Inoue...for now. He just needed to get the hell out of Hueco Mundo so he could get help.

Grimmjow stood up and stretched, the movement languid and cat-like. He put his hands in his pockets and glanced at the screen. He was sneering at Aizen, but he remained silent, waiting for orders.

It was Ichimaru who spoke though, his voice a lust-filled whisper. He’d scooted to the edge of the stair he was perched on and leaned forward. “Well?”

Ichigo’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with incredulity. “N-now?”

Aizen grinned. “What did I say about hesitation, Kurosaki?”

There was no time to think, no time to even reply before Grimmjow was on him. Ichigo was caught off guard by the other man’s speed and weight, and they stumbled backward, slamming against the wall.

Grimmjow was all hands as he pushed and groped at Ichigo. His fingers fumbled with the black hakama and he snarled into Ichigo’s ear. “Get with the program, Shinigami.” He rolled his hips against Ichigo and groaned.

Ichigo closed his eyes, trying to focus on the familiar feeling of Grimmjow’s hands on him. Trying not to think about the eyes watching them, or the image of Inoue’s slack, broken body.

“It’s not like we haven’t done this before,” Grimmjow licked a stripe up Ichigo’s neck, “like that time we barely made it to the alley by your house, you remember?”

Ichigo did remember, quite vividly, in fact. They’d crashed into a garbage can in their haste but neither bothered to check to see if they’d drawn attention to themselves. 

They’d started high in the air, swords clashing as they fought. Then Ichigo had gotten close enough to hear Grimmjow’s low snarling and he’d crowded into the Espada’s space and kissed him hard. Things quickly escalated from there and they somehow made it out of the sky and were on their way- stopping to grope and bite and nip at each other- to Ichigo’s house. But Grimmjow had ended up taking him roughly against the alley wall, clamping his hand over Ichigo’s mouth to stifle his loud moaning. They’d both parted with scrapes and bruises from that particular encounter.

“Or that time in the woods, when those kids almost caught us because you couldn’t keep your voice down?” Grimmjow had slowed down, finally getting the hakama loose and opening Ichigo’s kosode and shitagi. “Humans are idiots. Who the hell lets their kids wander around the woods at that time of night?” He mumbled as an afterthought. His hands smoothed over Ichigo’s chest, gentle in a way they didn’t usually allow themselves to be. 

Ichigo finally lifted his hands to card through Grimmjow’s hair, tugging to guide his mouth back to his neck in an attempt to shut him up. Ichigo took a shuddering breath as his mind supplied him with detailed flashes of their fights-turned-fucking.

He could feel Grimmjow grin against his skin before he pressed closer, their bodies flush from chest to thigh. 

“There was that time in your room, in that stupidly small bed of yours. Your sisters were downstairs,” Grimmjow whispered as he moved his hands to Ichigo’s ass, squeezing almost painfully tight. “There’s no way they didn’t hear you scream when you came.”

Grimmjow continued muttering filthy memories as he slowly divested Ichigo of his clothes. His touch alternated between soft and rough, his mouth moving against Ichigo’s heated skin. The low vibrations of his voice rumbled through Ichigo, and he finally realized what was happening.

Grimmjow was trying to distract him. He was trying to make this easier for Ichigo even though he’d been brusque and harsh earlier.

Despite being watched, despite knowing Inoue was somewhere close and hurt, and despite being able to hear Ichimaru’s disturbing sounds of encouragement, Ichigo was fully hard.

He pushed Grimmjow’s jacket off and dragged his nails lightly down Grimmjow’s chest. He glanced up at Grimmjow to watch his reaction when Ichigo’s fingers came to rest on the edge of his Hollow hole. He knew what it did to Grimmjow when he teased the sensitive spot. He pressed gently into the soft, inky flesh and smiled at the low growl Grimmjow let out.

“Fuck yeah, Kurosaki,” he kept his voice quiet, meant only for the two of them.

Ichigo’s fingers traced the hole before moving to rest on Grimmjow’s narrow hips. He spread his legs and sighed contentedly when Grimmjow’s thigh pressed against his cock. 

Neither of them thought about how different this was from every other time they came together; the slow, rolling grind with no rush for completion; Grimmjow’s softly spoken words, meant to keep Ichigo distracted instead of getting him off faster; the way they sought out each other’s mouths, kissing with a depth that had never been there before. 

Ichigo ignored the way his hands pulled Grimmjow close and held him there. He ignored the pleasant buzzing under his skin each time Grimmjow forgot himself and rested his hand on Ichigo’s jaw, thumb rubbing slow circles against his cheekbone. He pretended he couldn’t hear the soft noises he was making, the pants and moans and whimpers. He pretended he didn’t like the way Grimmjow kept licking into his mouth to catch the sounds before they came out.

They were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t hear Aizen clear his throat.

“Grimmjow,” Ichimaru dragged the vowels out on a whine. “You’re being greedy and keeping him all to yourself. Naughty kitty.” His long neck was stretched and he was squinting at the screen. He’d moved and was sitting between Aizen’s legs, one hand resting on Aizen’s foot.

“Yes, Grimmjow, please share your toy with the class.” Aizen was rubbing Ichimaru’s shoulders, his fingertips slipping beneath the white fabric of his jacket as his hands moved slowly lower.

“Now, Sexta,” Ulquiorra warned, ever the perfect servant. He was still standing rigid next to Aizen, his green eyes dull and listless as he stared at the screen.

Ichigo swallowed and pulled back from Grimmjow, seeing his own anger reflected on the other’s face. They stood still for a moment, staring at each other, breathing each other’s air. He nodded imperceptibly and Grimmjow bared his teeth and growled. He spun them around fast, his chest pressed against Ichigo’s back, and snarled at the screen. “Is this what you want to see?”

Ichigo’s skin burned with shame and embarrassment. His pants had fallen to his ankles and his shitagi and kosode were wide open, exposing him entirely to the screen. He knew they could see the red lines on his chest from Grimmjow's nails- marks he’d wanted Grimmjow to leave. He could feel their hungry eyes all over him and his panic rose, making him struggle in Grimmjow's tight grip. 

“Stop,” Grimmjow whispered in his ear before biting the lobe. Ichigo sucked in a breath and tried to focus on how good it felt when Grimmjow bit him.

Grimmjow’s hand rested low on his belly for a moment before sliding further down, dipping his fingertips into coarse orange hair. He put his other hand over Ichigo’s eyes and pulled his head back, exposing the long column of Ichigo’s neck. 

The pleased hum Ichimaru made was disgusting, but Grimmjow pulled him close again and snapped his hips forward, his cock hard through his loosened pants.

“If they want a show, let’s give ‘em one.”

**.oOo.**

Hours passed again, or maybe days, Ichigo had no way of telling. His body ached, his muscles sore and overworked. Aizen only had Szayelaporro heal superficial wounds like Grimmjow’s bite and claw marks, and the scrapes he’d gotten from the sharp teeth of Grimmjow’s bone mask. Bruises darkened his skin in mottled patches and he was pretty sure his hair had been yanked so hard and frequently that he had at least one bald spot.

Grimmjow only tried to distract him that first time, kept his mouth close to Ichigo’s ear to whisper erotic filth and promises that it was just like every other time.

Except it wasn’t.

There was never anyone commenting, critiquing, or  _ instructing _ before; we can’t see, face the screen. Spread his legs more. Bite harder. Scream louder.

And through it all, Aizen watched. Ichimaru and Ulquiorra watched. Any passing Arrancar or Espada watched. The screen stayed up while he and Grimmjow ‘gave them a show.’ Gave them multiple shows, in fact. For what felt like hours. Ichigo kept his eyes closed as much as possible, hating the smug smile on Ichimaru’s face and the barely-there grin on Aizen’s.

He leaned against the wall when they were done, panting and sweating. Grimmjow was still on the couch where Ichigo had ridden him, legs still spread, come drying on his stomach near his Hollow hole. His head was thrown back as he tried to catch his breath.

Ichigo’s mind was a tumultuous storm of conflicting thoughts. Why were they doing this to him? How was Grimmjow ok with this? What was wrong with him that he felt a tingle of thrill whenever someone watching made a noise of approval over something he’d done ( _ yes, just like that Kurosaki-kun. Perfect. _ )? How could he lose himself in the act, forgetting anything other than the feeling Grimmjow’s hands, lips, and cock? Why didn’t he fight harder?

In the brief reprieves between fucking, his Hollow bellowed in outrage. He could feel it’s power vibrating against his skin, begging for release, but it was a muted pulsing that he couldn’t actually grab onto even if he wanted to. The only time the beast was quieted was when Grimmjow was deep inside him, or he inside Grimmjow.

Ichigo was made aware again that they were not alone when a large, dog-like Espada walked in front of the screen and murmured it’s distress in having missed them. Other voices cut through the incessant berating he was giving himself.

“Not bad. I think with some pointers, they could do better. The Sexta should be in Resurreccion form next time.”

“Ah. The beauty is in the almost feral, primal way they attack each other. We don’t want perfection here, Gin. We want purity.”

“If I may, Aizen-sama, I think you need to break them of their respect for each other. The imbalance of power was what brought them together, yes? Striving to be better than their stations. That kind of thinking needs to be-”

“They have no power, Ulqui-chan. They are nothing more than animals. Let them rut together like the beasts they are until one of them kills the other.”

“Always the pragmatist, Gin.” Aizen chuckled softly.

Ichigo ground his teeth as he wiped at himself with a rag Szayelaporro left for them. Their tinny voices carried through the screen to burrow in his ears making him feel shame for his actions and embarrassment for his  _ performance.  _ He felt heat creep up his neck and bit his tongue on any retorts he had, figuring it would be easier not to engage them any further. 

The screen went blank as Ichimaru continued to try to enlighten Aizen on the merits of sex as torture and Grimmjow finally stood up. He stretched long arms above his head and yawned. He watched, a grin on his kiss-swollen lips, as Ichigo stared at his sword.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” he drawled.

“Wouldn’t what?” Ichigo snapped his gaze up and refused to let his eyes roam over the Espada’s naked form. 

“Whatever stupid plan you’ve come up with.”

Ichigo reached for his hakama, tying them loosely. He still felt exposed to watching eyes even though their audience was gone.

“We can leave, you know. The two of use. We can take them. We can get her and get out of here.”

Grimmjow squinted at him and bared his sharp teeth in a sneer. “And do what? Play happily ever after? You want me to sleep in a closet like that shinigami woman used to?” He chuckled but wouldn’t meet Ichigo’s eyes. He yanked his own pants on and tugged the black sash tight.

“Grimmjow-,”

“What, Kurosaki? We fucked up and got caught.” Grimmjow busied himself with adjusting his jacket.

Ichigo stared at him.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and handed him the rest of his clothes. A door opened in a far wall. The Arrancar that had been bringing him food waited outside of it.

“You look like I just broke up with you. Get a fucking grip,” Grimmjow lowered his voice and paused as he walked past. “There was never an ‘us,’ Ichigo. He’ll never allow it.” He walked out and Ichigo watched him go, a shock of blue against long, white hall. He turned a corner and kept going without looking back.

The Arrancar stepped in and bowed slightly. “Aizen-sama says I am to guide you to a garganta so you can leave Hueco Mundo. This way.” It turned and started walking away without seeing if he was following.

He finished dressing hastily and grabbed Zangestu. As they moved through Las Noches, The white walls filled with the image of Inoue in her room. One stretch of wall showed him her small form curled on a mat, her shoulders shuddering as she cried. Another showed her being whipped. The images were in muted blacks, grays, and greens, but it was clear where her blood ran down her back and stained the tattered remnants of her clothes. 

He stopped as they rounded a corner and a new image of her spread across the blank wall before him. She was chained to a wall. Her arms were bound above her head and she was blindfolded and gagged. Her long hair was matted, her hairpins lying uselessly at her feet. The shot zoomed in as Szayelaporro entered her room. Inoue suddenly started squirming against her chains and tears ran down her cheeks. 

Szayelaporro reached a long fingered hand to brush hair away from her face and Ichigo saw her whole body recoil from his touch. He turned to the screen and smiled directly at Ichigo.

“This way,” the Arrancar called to him from a few feet ahead, as if there wasn’t an image of a bound human on every blank surface.

He forced his eyes away from the scene and continued following it. Rescue plans presented themselves to him half-formed as he walked. He thought about gathering is friends and storming Las Noches again. He saw himself carrying her away from her room, cutting down anyone that tried to stop him. He felt Grimmjow’s warm presence beside him as they fought their way to freedom.

Every plan ended the same way: Aizen snapping his fingers and everything Ichigo cared about was destroyed in a burst of flame and lightning.

By the time they’d finally reached the outer walls of Las Noches all thoughts of rescue had stopped. His mind was a dangerous minefield of self-doubt, inappropriate lust, and plans that failed before they started.

The Arrancar opened a garganta and ushered Ichigo forward. “Aizen-sama says he’ll see you soon.” It turned and left him alone, facing the black abyss between this world and his own and he shuddered.

Ichigo stared back at the tall white walls he had come to associate with terror. He could feel eyes on him again and he felt like they saw right through to the twisted part of him that was tempted to stay. He felt like the soft laughter he heard was in response to his half-hearted attempts to tell himself he was staying for Inoue, not for Grimmjow.

Disgust roiling in his stomach and laughter echoing in his ears, he stepped through the dark gap.


End file.
